


the way you look at me

by fluffysfics



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/M, Fluffy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Mild Sexual Content, Post-Episode: s12e10 The Timeless Children, Telepathy, is ‘plot with porn’ a valid tag, look at me I wrote angst that doesn’t end sadly for once
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-25
Updated: 2020-06-25
Packaged: 2021-03-04 00:20:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,344
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24914521
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fluffysfics/pseuds/fluffysfics
Summary: Living on the Doctor’s TARDIS, the Master has a lot of time to consider their previous attempts at cohabitation. This Doctor is very different to the last one he lived with- he wonders just how much of that difference is his own fault.
Relationships: Thirteenth Doctor/The Master (Dhawan)
Comments: 7
Kudos: 81





	the way you look at me

It’s cold in the not-really-a-garden, and the Master thinks he likes it that way. He could ask the Doctor’s TARDIS to turn the heating up a few degrees, but there’s every chance she wouldn’t comply, and anyways- the faint chill raises goosebumps on his skin, keeps him adequately distracted from his own thoughts. 

There’s three moons up in the fake sky, and a broad scattering of stars that don’t look like the stars from anywhere in the universe that the Master knows. He closes his eyes, tips his head back, and feels the silver moonlight on his skin. It’s not real. Even the breeze is manufactured, and it’s almost enough to make him miss the peaceful cool of nights on the Australian outback. He could always ask the Doctor to take him somewhere nice, but asking her for anything still feels too much like losing. 

“ _There_ you are, Kosch. Been looking for you.” 

He almost jumps at the sound of the Doctor’s voice. She’s standing in a doorway that seems to appear out of nowhere, framed by blue rose bushes (of _course_ they’re blue, everything in here seems to be either blue or orange) and soft grass. She’s ditched her usual coat, and without it, she looks vulnerable. 

“Looking for me? Not in trouble, am I?” It’s a vague attempt at a joke, at least. The Master manages a smile, and shifts up on the bench enough for her to sit down with him. 

“Nope.” The Doctor wanders over to him, and perches on the arm of the bench, her boots resting squarely on the seat. Were he in a better mood, the Master would have said something about _manners_. “Just wondered where you’d got to.” 

“Well. You found me, love.” He shrugs. The words come out a little more tersely than he means them to, and the Doctor picks up on it _immediately_. 

“Something up?” She’s already digging in her trouser pocket for her sonic, and the Master rolls his eyes. She’s obsessed with that thing, honestly. 

“Nothing you’re going to fix by pointing that at me.” 

The Doctor purses her lips, and puts the sonic away again. “What, then?” 

He closes his eyes, and thinks about how easy it would be to draw on that ever-present bubbling rage, snap at her until she retreats and doesn’t bother him for the next three days at least. Any time up until recently, he would have done exactly that. 

But now, they’re _trying_. Trying to make things work, trying to build something out of the shattered remains of a relationship they’d been left with. The Doctor has been endlessly patient with him, has apologised and talked endlessly about the mistakes they’ve made, has been doing her absolute best to make him feel at home here. 

He owes her honesty. 

“You never look at me like you used to,” the Master says quietly, and maybe it’s ironic, but he can’t meet the Doctor’s eyes as he speaks. 

It’s not what she’d been expecting him to say, the Master can see that much already. She shifts on the arm of the bench, and then slides her boots off of the seat and plops down next to him. “What’s that mean?” 

Oh, she wants more. Of course. This is what he gets for starting a conversation about feelings. 

“You’re so- _guarded_ ,” he says, through gritted teeth. “Like you don’t want me to know what you’re thinking. Back when I was Missy, I could _see_ it when you looked at me, Doctor, I could _see_ how much you felt for me. The _love_ , and the longing, and, and- and now there’s _none_ of that. What did I do wrong?” 

He’s expecting her to snap back at him about destroying their home planet. Or maybe about O, or about the damned Nazi uniform, or the Cyberlords, or- too many things to count. The Master is hardly unaware of everything he’s done wrong. But if the Doctor’s last self could see someone worthy of redemption and love in Missy, why is this Doctor so _careful_ with _him_? Is he really so much worse than his previous incarnation?

She avoids his gaze, and kicks at the gravel on the ground beneath them. For a long, long, moment, she says absolutely nothing. Then-

“I was so sure you betrayed me, last time. I put so much effort into trying to rebuild things, and then you just- _walked off_.” The Doctor kicks at the floor so hard that gravel sprays out onto the surrounding grass, and she immediately slips off the bench to pick it up and put it back into place. “I know you didn’t really betray me, now. But it hurt. Really hurt. And I don’t- I _can’t_ get hurt like that again.” She dumps the gravel back onto the floor, and sits down again, and finally looks him in the eyes. “Think that would break me. Really.” 

Oh. 

The Master doesn’t say the first seven things that come to mind. They’re all defensive, and hurt, or angry, and he really is trying to be better. The eighth thing is at least approaching a reasonable response, he thinks. 

“I’m not going to betray you.” It’s a useless statement, really, and he knows it. “I know you only have my word for it, and that means- _nothing_ , less than nothing, but- I’m not. I’m tired of fighting you. I’d rather be your friend.” 

“You said much the same thing when you turned every dead body on Earth into a Cyberman as a present for me,” the Doctor points out. 

“I meant it then. And I still mean it. I really, really do.” The Master inches closer on the bench, until his knee bumps against the Doctor’s own. Wide brown eyes find hers, and his gaze is beseeching, almost as desperate as he'd been on his knees, begging her to destroy their home planet and both of them along with it. “Theta- I _need_ to know how you feel about me. I need to. _Please_.” 

He sees a thousand things flicker across the Doctor’s face. Hurt, want, fear, mistrust, love, longing, and so many more emotions so soft and subtle that no one but him would ever be able to pick them out on her face. Only he knows her that well. 

“Terrible with words, this time. Just- terrible.” She shakes her head, and then one of her hands is in the back of his hair, and the Master finds himself being kissed. It’s not even close to the first time since they’ve been living here together, but it feels... _different_ , somehow. Her lips are so warm, his own chilled from how long he’s been sitting out here in the cold. 

Then the Doctor’s mind presses against his, and he almost pulls away from the kiss with surprise. Telepathy has been another thing she’s seemed so keen to deny him, and he’s missed it, the connection between them so natural it feels like breathing. It feels like coming home. 

Her mind is just as warm as her lips. It’s chaotic, full of swirling stars and thoughts and feelings, but she’s pushing something specific towards him. The Master lets her, lets the emotions and pictures she’s sending him expand until they blot out everything else. 

_He sees himself standing in the outback, the first second the Doctor saw him in her new body. He feels her excitement, her warmth, how pleased she was to see him._

_He sees himself above her, wild-eyed and manic, as their plane hurtles towards the ground. She’s aching, hearts broken, but something in her is shamefully, secretly delighted by the sight of him._

_He sees himself in Paris, trading cheap shots about Jodrell Bank with her, and feels the weight of millennia on the Doctor’s shoulders- how long she’s loved him, how much it hurts to be fighting him again._

_He sees himself on his knees, tears in his eyes as he begs the Doctor to end them both. Her hearts are breaking once more, but it’s bittersweet; she’s thinking that at least they’re close, at least he’s being vulnerable, and he feels her misery and her anger and her longing, swallowing each other up over and over again._

_Finally, he sees himself just a few minutes ago, questioning what had happened to the way she looks at him. He feels the sting in her hearts, and the regret, and—_

“You see, Koschei? Didn’t ever stop feeling like that.” The Doctor is speaking into his mind. Her lips are still on his, and the Master can taste the salt of tears mingling with their kiss- they’re probably his own. She never seems to cry, and he’ll tear up at anything. “Just- got scared. Got bad at showing my feelings. I’m sorry.” 

“No. _No_ , don’t apologise. You don’t need to. I promise.” He pulls away from the kiss, opens his eyes. It’s dizzying, for a moment, to look at her- with their minds still linked, there’s a few seconds where he feels like he’s falling, caught in her eyes, completely surrounded- and then she blinks, and he can get a hold of himself. It’s been a while, since they’ve been connected like this. Far too long. 

“Last time, I was a lot better at showing how much I cared,” she starts to say, and the Master is already shaking his head before the sentence is even finished. That puts her off from saying anything more, leaves her quiet and waiting for his input. 

“Last time, you locked me in a vault and let us pine over each other for seventy years. You barely touched me. You were... _professional_. And that was fine. But I wanted to hold you, I always wanted that. You never let me.” There are definitely tears in his eyes, now. “This... Doctor, this feels _better_. You’re not holding me up to some...sanctimonious ideal. I’m not trapped. And you- you’re trying to show that you care, I know it.” 

“I do care,” the Doctor says quietly. “I care so much, Koschei.” 

“I believe you, Theta,” he says, just as softly. “I care too. Never cared about anyone like I do about you.” 

The Master is still reeling from the strength of her emotions, and it’s half a surprise to him when the Doctor shifts, climbs into his lap and kisses him again. Her weight against him is comforting, grounding, but her lips have his head spinning all over again. 

Their minds press together again, until the Master can almost feel their kiss from both sides, until their hearts ring in his ears, a fast eight-beat that drowns out everything else. 

_I have always cared about you_ , he feels in his head, and it really is a feeling more than it is any real words. The Doctor calls forth more memories, a flood of them, spinning thousands of years back in time. 

_The Doctor’s hands gripping his arm, right on the edge of the Eye of Harmony, trying to save his life-_

_The pain of watching him die in her arms-_

_Stolen glances on Gallifrey, shy smiles, a very first blushing confession of love-_

_Years of being secretly pleased every time he took off another ridiculous disguise, every time he was miraculously alive-_

_Lips on bare skin, muffling noises in the privacy of his Academy bedroom, minds linked as they rock against each other, the phrase I love you, I love you on a constant repeat-_

It goes on, and on, and the Master has no choice but to believe it. It’s completely, utterly genuine, it’s overwhelming, it’s perfect. 

“Theta,” he murmurs against her lips, and he knows he doesn’t need to say anything more. She can see the want in his eyes, she can feel it in his mind. And he can feel it in her, too; unashamed, in a way she hasn’t been for _centuries_. He shifts against the Doctor, and he can feel it _physically_ too, everything suddenly feverishly-hot and tingling with need. 

“Koschei. My Koschei.” She cups his face, and the Master gazes up at her, and he sees everything in her eyes that he’d been so worried about missing before. She cares. She loves him. Their thousands of years of history mean _everything_ to her, and he’s seen the undeniable proof of it. 

“Yours,” he breathes, without a moment’s hesitation, and he closes his eyes and sinks into the searing-hot sparks of their shared mindscape as she kisses him again. 

——

It’s a _long_ time before their minds finally separate. They’re both warm, and wearing far fewer clothes, and the Doctor has her head nestled against his chest. The Master is running a gentle hand through her hair, feeling the beat of his hearts gradually slow down to a more normal pace. 

He doesn’t say anything; doesn’t need to. The last couple of hours have been full of so many things said, and done, and now the gentle silence is a welcome change. He hardly remembers the last time that the Doctor was this still and quiet. 

He tilts his head back, and looks up at the stars again. They’re still egregiously fake, but it doesn’t bother him quite as much as it had done earlier. Maybe later, he’ll ask the Doctor to take them out somewhere with real stars, and they can lie together under the sky and talk like they did when they were young. 

He dips his head to press a kiss to her forehead, and receives a smile and a lazy peck on the collarbone in return. It’s still cool outside, but the warmth and weight of the Doctor’s body is too nice to make it worth moving just yet. Another five minutes, maybe. Or an hour. This feeling is too good to waste. 

He’s been on the Doctor’s TARDIS for a while now, but this is the first time that he’s really felt like he _belongs_. 

The Master had forgotten just how good it was to love, and to know beyond any doubt that he was loved in return. 

**Author's Note:**

> so I just realised this could be read as a continuation of my fic ‘the long way back home’, this was not intentional when writing but hey, it fits!
> 
> hope you enjoyed! comments and kudos are very much appreciated <3


End file.
